


Pocky Game!

by momopichu



Series: One shot, One world [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 21:27:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7861708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momopichu/pseuds/momopichu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This has probably been done before but hear me out. McHanzo Pocky stick game!! \o/</p><p>Rules: two players begin eating the pocky stick from either end. If a player lets go of the stick, they lose. If a player reaches the middle first, they win. If the players kiss….It’s a “tie” >:3</p><p>I’m doing this really quickly so forgive me for any errors! (And I’ve never written anything remotely smutty so hey - first time’s the charm)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pocky Game!

“I’ll play you for it.” McCree waves the box of pocky sticks in Hanzo’s face. The chocolate coated biscuits rattle in their box.

“Childish.” Hanzo declares. The dragon archer folds his arms over his chest in a show of defiance. What begins as a practise session has quickly turned into a competition between the two men of who has the better aim. The results? A tie. To break their stalemate, McCree had produced the box of chocolate biscuits - much to Hanzo’s surprise.

“ ’Fraid you’ll lose?”

“Against you?” He sniffs “Not likely.”

The cowboy says nothing, just waggles his eyebrows. Hanzo avoids the hooded brown eyes. He knows very well that if he avoids the challenge, he’ll be seen as the loser - not something he can stomach. _Better get this over with_.

“Fine,” he snaps, unfolding his arms and moving to stand before McCree.

The cowboy wastes no time. Extracting one of the long, thin, chocolate coated biscuits. He holds it between the two of them.

“You know the rules?” He drawls, voice thick with honey.

“I know them.” Hanzo meet’s McCree’s eyes - _he would show this…this fool!_

 _“_ May the best man win.”

He’s seen children play the game before, but never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that he would play it himself. And with a cowboy no less! Hanzo takes one end of the pocky stick, holding it firmly between his teeth. McCree takes the other, brown eyes twinkling.

“Begin.”

So close. They were already so close. Hanzo’s hands ball into fists as he begins chewing on his end of the stick. McCree - undeterred - bites down on his end.

_Paki. Paki. Paki._

Goes the stick, the distance shortening between them. Hanzo sees the chocolate, the biscuit hanging between McCree’s lips. A snarl escapes him - he will not lose. The stick continues to dwindle between them, he feels the heat rushing to his face when he meets the cowboy’s eyes. Clear brown eyes, they were watching him with a curious expression he could not name. A slight tinge of red dapples his cheeks.

 _Paki. Paki. Paki._

The cheater. McCree was holding his end, using his height to prevent the smaller man from reaching the middle first. Hanzo puffs, he raises his hands, balling them in the red serape and pulling the cowboy down. McCree’s growl is drowned in the constant snaps of the disappearing pocky stick. 

 _Paki. Paki. Paki._

Their noses were brushing. There was no more than a thumbs length of biscuit between them. The heat of the cowboy’s breath coats his face, filling him with the musty scent of cigars and rich cedar.

_Tch._

The archer’s hands twist in the red cloth, dragging McCree down. They come together, chaste at first, then with force. Hanzo pushes up into the tall man, tasting the chocolate, the cigars on the other man’s lips. McCree responds, a deep growl rumbling in his chest - a sound that makes the archer’s toes curl. The gunslinger’s hands are on his waist, his back, pulling him closer. One of them - the metal arm, he suspects - drifts up to twine in his hair, threading the long golden scarf between chrome fingers. The air is filled with him, with them. The sharp citrus scents of his soap, mixing with the heavier, if cheaper, scent of almond. The feeling of cloth and hair tickling his neck, his face, the heat - all around him - Hanzo nips the gunslinger on the lips before pulling away. Panting.

“You really hate losing, don’t you?” The cowboy comments offhandedly.

His hand comes up to wipe away a chocolate smear on Hanzo’s rough lips. Bringing it to his own face, McCree licks the chocolate from his fingers. The archer turn’s his face away, beet red.

_Hmph._

**Author's Note:**

> Based off and referenced with help from Kaichou wa Maid-Sama (chpt 37.) \o/
> 
> (God this piece has me cringing in my seat, I’m terrible at smut >_>)


End file.
